Sensibility
by constantchaos
Summary: When a certain redhead stops caring, everything starts to slip away...until she finds the one person who can put the pieces back in place.


Author's Note: This is my first fanfic, which I'm writing because my super pal Brokenflower wanted me to write one about Ginny. Plus, it also gives me something to do during my "favorite" class while I'm "listening" to my "favorite" teacher (if that's what you wanna call her) teach (if that's what you wanna call it). And don't forget to review when you're done, even if it sucks, which I think it does, by the way. You can flame me if you want. I need suggestions on how to make this better.  
  
And, um, yeah, I don't own anything Harry Potterish. J.K. Rowling does. The only thing I own is her friend Aristi, who I made up because Ginny needs a friend her own age and there are no references in Harry Potter to any girls in Ginny's year.  
  
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"Ginny," I heard a familiar soft coo. "Put that down already, will ya? That paper's not due 'till the end of the month. Professor Binns said so himself."  
  
I gently dropped the book I was reading onto my lap. "But you know me, Aristi," I reminded her. "If I don't get this done now, I'll never get around to doing it later. Besides, I might as well do it now while my mind is still on elves and how they established themselves in the household of witches and wizards," I said, reciting the assignment.  
  
"You're somethin' all right," she said, her gray eyes widening a bit. "Yes, ya really are an unusual weasel."  
  
I pulled back a disobedient strand of hair. "Besides," I added, "I have to actually work really hard for my grades, unlike you, Miss-I-Never-Study-But- Still-Get-High-Marks."  
  
"Aw, shaddup, already." She gave me a teasing shove. "Ya know that's not true. Ya know I study."  
  
"If you do," I shoved her back, "then how come I don't see you study at all?"  
  
"Hmm," she said, scanning her mind for an answer, "because I wake up every night at midnight to study which explains why ya don't see me?"  
  
"Uh huh. Sure," I responded sarcastically. "Oh, of course, how could I forget?"  
  
"Shaddup, Ginny. Didn't I tell ya to shaddup, already? Huh? Huh?"  
  
"Oh Aristi," I said nonchalantly.  
  
"Oh Ginny," she imitated and then picked up one of my books to work on her paper. I followed suit and resumed reading mine.  
  
Aristi does have a point. I should relax. But I can't. It's impossible to, not after what happened at the end of last term. Mum and Dad were so upset. And disappointed. They were really disappointed in me. But the thing that disturbs me the most was that they didn't yell at me. No, they didn't. They did the opposite, in fact. I remember Dad, how he just shook his head, didn't know what to say. And Mum, she just whispered, "Oh, Ginny."  
  
"Oh, Ginny?! Is that all you're going to say to me?!" I had replied back in an abrupt manner. Merlin's beard, why did I have to open my damn mouth? If I had known that's how I would have responded, I would have kept that stupid hole in my face shut. I didn't mean for it to come out that way. I didn't mean to sound like a, like a violent storm. It just crept out of me. It came slowly at first, but then as time went on, it grew steadier and steadier, the way rain does, until it takes over everything, forcing a town or whatever it's raining over to adapt to it, to formulate its whole life on this downpour.  
  
And it didn't stop there. I remember after saying that, I stormed off to my room. The drizzle had become an unpredictable rainstorm, and my house would never be dry again because of my sudden downpours that methodically drenched and saturated us all. All throughout the summer, it was like this every time I was angry or confused. On and off. On and off. Until one day I myself would become withered from all my wholesome, elemental emotions that were drowned and washed away in my periodic floods. I couldn't control myself at all.  
  
So I can't relax at all, like Aristi says. The way she says it, she makes it sound so easy. But it's not; at least for me it's not. Aristi, it's really easy for her to take things easily. Being an only child and all. I mean, she might say that her life is stressful and everything, but it's not. I know it's not. I've seen her work in her aunt's shop over the summer. I've seen the way she conducts herself, trying to convince witches and wizards to buy some of her aunt's robes. And believe me, the way she talks about it, it sounds as if she was measuring ingredients for veritaserum. And it's not that big of a deal. There aren't that many robe shops in Diagon Alley. And Diagon Alley is probably the most visited alley in the U.K. And it's not like her cousins visit her often. They've all graduated from Hogwarts and they're earning a fine salary, which they set aside a considerable percentage for buying presents for her whenever she receives a high mark on a paper or any other piece of work. And knowing Aristi, that happens a lot. Unlike me, who studies and has to work hard to manage at least a satisfactory mark, she rarely studies and hardly spends time on her work and still receives high marks. And she never cheats, too. She's like a lazy version of Hermione, or a smart version of Ron.  
  
Which brings me back to memories of what happened at the end of last term. When Mum and Dad saw my grades, but for some reason, fourth year was especially difficult for me. No, it wasn't because of the material I was learning. It was something else. For some reason I didn't know, it was hard for me to concentrate and study at the end of last term. And I wasn't the only one who noticed it; teachers did, friends did, and eventually, my parents. They all, no, we all noticed how I started out pretty well that year. How I did better than usual, actually. Then towards the end, how my grades started to slip. And it's been slipping. Just like that, I was sliding down a cliff that I knew I would never rise out of. So that's what Mum and Dad were upset about. My grades. But I knew this was coming. I knew my grades were going to be exceptionally poor. But I didn't do anything to stop it. I didn't stop my grades from slipping. I accepted it. I knew I was going to take a wrong turn but I let myself get lost. I let everything slip that year. And I'm still doing it. I'm still letting everything slip away. In fact, if I had a chance to do this year over, I wouldn't have done it any different. But what I don't understand though is this: If I really feel this way, then why would I have kept that big hole in my face shut, instead of letting my anger flow out and flood everyone? 


End file.
